Feeling Good
by rainlightautumn
Summary: Drunksitting his roommate at a club turns into a more enjoyable experience than Jazz would have previously thought. ProwlxJazz


Title: Feeling Good  
Rating: PG  
Characters/Pairings: Jazz, Prowl, Tracks, Blaster, Soundwave; Prowl/Jazz  
AN: I found this silly little thing on my computer, waiting patiently to be finished. So, I did it. I started writing it while I was sitting with my grampa at his sickbed during one of my graveyard shifts with him. When he was aware, he helped me with word choice. I'm finished with it now, and it's really silly and a bit pointless, but hey, it's fluff! This is based on a true story. And by "based on a true story" I mean that everything that Jazz goes through happened to me. Except for the happy ending. I just got bruises. *laughs* I'm not satisfied with it as a whole, but I'm trying to get my creative juices flowing again. We'll see if this worked.

Dedicated to Daebereth and Snugsbunny on LJ because they're going through some crap right now, and my grandfather because he was my thesaurus and would have appreciated the situation Jazz finds himself in. Rest peacefully, sweet prince.

* * *

Jazz guided Tracks to a seat, the bass from the music in the club shaking his dermal plating. Normally, this was just his scene, but tonight he had an overcharged roommate to keep track of. Added to that, he had had an exhausting day that had progressively gotten worse. All Jazz wanted to do was curl up on his berth and chill with a good file and some smooth tunes.

"Jazz! Jazz! Jazz! Lookit lookit LOOKIT!"

But that was not to be. Jazz sighed and looked over at Tracks, his raised optic ridge prompting Tracks to continue.

"There's an empty space! On the dance floor! We should go there! And dance!" Tracks was grinning sloppily, his optics carrying the too bright sheen indicative of energon overindulgence. Jazz had to let out a tired laugh—only when he was overcharged would Tracks act like this.

"Tracks, that empty spot's there 'cause we just left it," Jazz reminded him. Tracks pouted.

"Well, that just won't do!" He exclaimed.

'_Everything_ he says is an exclamation,' Jazz thought, and then said, "Well, Tracks—"

"OOOOH!" Tracks squealed, standing quickly and grabbing Jazz's hand. "LOOKIT they're calling for people to get up on the bar again! Let's do it!"

Jazz let out a groan. "Tracks, we've done that two times already!" But before he could process what was going on, the larger mech had dragged him up onto the bar with him and mechs and femmes were whistling and holding out energon beads. Jazz followed Tracks as he danced his way around the rectangular bar, dancing somewhat but more concentrated on making sure Tracks didn't fall off. As the line of mechs and femmes paused for a moment, Jazz let his attention wander to the crowd, and that was when he saw _him_.

The mech was actually in a few of Jazz's classes at the academy. He—Prowl, Jazz remembered—was leaning against a wall watching the mechs on the bar. Jazz ran his optics up Prowl's clean, precise paint scheme and stopped suddenly as he met the other mech's gaze. Prowl's gaze seemed distant, but there was _something_ about his optics, some sort of deep glow, that tugged at the edge of Jazz's processor that made Prowl seem _anything_ but distant. In fact, he seemed almost a little dangerous…

The mech behind Jazz gave him an uncoordinated hip bump, so he jerked his gaze away from Prowl's. He looked in front of him and saw Tracks a few spots down from where he was previously, bending down to give a sloppy kiss to an obviously delighted mech, and moved to stop his roommate. Before he turned, though, he looked back to where Prowl was—and was met with just the wall Prowl had been leaning against.

The rest of the time Jazz was on the bar was spent making sure Tracks didn't make a complete fool of himself and pondering Prowl. As Jazz was (finally) hopping off the bar and helping Tracks down, he realized that Prowl's look was _predatory_, and something like anticipation crawled down his back.

---

"Jazz!"

Said mech lifted his head up, visor brightening at the sight of one of his close friends. "Blaster, buddy! What's going on?"

The red mech grinned and waved a jaunty hand. "Nothing much, just enjoying my break. Soundwave's up at the box now," he replied, gesturing up to the glass room the club's DJ worked in.

"Hi Blaster!" Tracks greeted excitedly.

Blaster looked down at the sitting Tracks and quirked an optic ridge. "Trackssitting?" Blaster asked amusedly.

Jazz smiled. "Yeah, we came with a group but they're off somewhere."

Blaster gave Jazz a sympathetic look. "You look exhausted."

"It was a long day," Jazz replied.

Blaster seemed to consider something for a moment, and then said, "Why don't you go grace the floor with some of your moves, work out some tension. I'll keep an eye on Tracks here."

Jazz immediately shook his head. "Naw, man, I can't ask you to do that on your break."

"But you're not asking," Blaster retorted. "Go on. I'll tell Sounds to put on a good one."

Jazz grinned. "Alright, thanks man." He bent down to Tracks' level. "You hear that? You're gonna hang with Blaster for a breem."

Tracks grins. "Sure, Jazz!" Jazz gave the two mechs a quick wave and made his way to the dance floor.

---

By the time Jazz made it to the center of the floor, a song was playing and Jazz paused for a second to get the beat. And then he started.

Dancing for Jazz had always been a release. And right then, that was what he needed. The people around him faded into the background, right now it was just him, the music, and the dance. He didn't notice the small circle mechs and femmes had made around him, didn't see people slowly stop dancing to instead watch the creature that was quickly arresting every bot's attention.

The mech in the middle of the floor told a story with his body. And he was feeling good.

As Jazz continued to dance, his motions getting quicker and more sensual, some mechs called out to him from the crowd. Jazz ignored them, lost in his own world. With every move, layers of his bad day just peeled off of him, making his frame seem light as air. He did a spin and laughter bubbled up as the music reached a crescendo. He was stopped from spinning when a set of hands rested lightly on his hips from behind him. Startled out of his revelry, Jazz looked back to see who had cut in, pump racing. He encountered Prowl wearing a smirk that made Jazz's spark shiver.

"Hey," Jazz managed.

"Hey," Prowl murmured in reply, his smirk softening into a smile. Without saying another word, Prowl led Jazz back into the dance, easily keeping up with him. They danced without speaking because the beat was too fast, but words would have been superfluous anyways. The way Prowl trailed barely there hands at seams on Jazz's smooth sides ('I've been watching, _wanting_ you.') and just brushed Jazz's audio receptors with his jaw ('Is this? Should we?') and the way Jazz's teasing spins happened to involve light, lingering touches against doorwings ('Ah, lover, keep it coming.') said everything for them.

---

Blaster and Tracks watched the scene from off of the dance floor. Tracks looked up at Blaster with a wide, slag eating grin on his face. "Hey, wait a klik. Isn't that the stiff in half of our classes that pretty much drools when he is merely in Jazz's presence?"

Blaster smirked and nodded. "Yep. That'd be the one."

Tracks pursed his lips and tapped a finger on them. "He doesn't seem like the type to come to a club. Ever."

Blaster shrugged his shoulders and smiled mysteriously. "I guess you can't judge a bot on his paintjob, then, eh Tracks?"

The mentioned mech paused in his thinking and turned to say something in return but was distracted by something in the near distance. Tracks' face lit up.

"OOOH! BLASTER! Lookit, they're calling for people to get on the bar, c'mon let's do it!"

Blaster looked down at the mech pulling him eagerly toward the energon bar and then back at the two dancing black and white mechs on the floor. He grinned and tossed off a jaunty salute to the other two and followed Tracks up to what Blaster was fairly certain was his doom.

* * *

End Thoughts: Eh, it's okay. Sorry it's not up to my usual level of writing.

In my head, Prowl was a major creeper in a ton of Jazz's classes that was incredibly infatuated and wanted a way to get that across without making it seem like he had been stalking the saboteur-to-be. Blaster knew of this and, of course, helped a bot out. XD


End file.
